


A Poem for Mommy

by MommyMaleficent



Series: a Dragon, a Queen, and their little Princess [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mommy Maleficent, Non-Sexual Age Play, Poetry, little Emma, mommy Regina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 14:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16348652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MommyMaleficent/pseuds/MommyMaleficent
Summary: who loves me very much no matter whatOR:Emma questions love, and her mommies try to answer.





	A Poem for Mommy

**Author's Note:**

> Normally I wouldn’t move on ahead in a series without finishing all of the previous fic. This is an exception since the situation calls for it.

A Poem for Mommy  
by Emma Swan, age 4

Kisses and cuddles, hugging and snuggles  
Mommy knows how to cheer me up  
Stuffies and pacis, coloring, napping  
Apple juice in a sippy cup

We watch cartoons in the living room  
In the kitchen I help her cook  
By stirring the bowl and letting her know  
What it says to do straight from the book

And when I am sad, she holds me close  
And whispers nice things in my ear  
She rocks me gently, and tells me intently  
“Don’t worry, my love, I’m here...”

But I do worry. I worry a lot  
That Mommy’s not happy like this  
That something’s not right, no matter how slight  
With me being little, not big

And even when I am being big  
Is my best really even enough?  
If I do all my chores, close all my drawers  
Does what we have count as love?

These words hurt to say, but

 

“Emma... sweetheart? Are you okay?”

Emma blinks, looking up to Mama’s kind but concerned face. Mama shifts her from one knee to the other, and gently takes the paper with the poem from her hands. She folds it and places it on top of the coffee table before continuing:

“Did something happen to make you doubt Mommy loves you, little one?”

“Just thinkin’.” She shrugs. “What if what we have isn’t love... but just like?”

Mama sighs, and encourages Emma to lay her head on her shoulder, which she does. Then, she begins to rock.

“Now, you listen to your Mama,” she murmurs, “because I know everything.”

Emma scoffs, but she listens, closing her eyes, and letting the slow rocking motion soothe her.

“Mommy loves you just as much as I do. And Mommy shows her love in many different ways. When she tells you she loves you in words or in kisses. When she brushes your hair and does it up for you. When she makes you food, and helps you clean up if you make a mess. When she shouts for you to be careful when you’re doing something dangerous.

“And when you’re big, it’s the same thing. Telling you to drive safely, making a favorite meal, remembering where you put your keys or your cellphone when you can’t find it. Look at how she treats the friends she has that don’t share a roof with her, and look at how she treats you and me. Does that seem just like friendship to you?”

“Maybe a really, really, _really_ serious one.”

And Mama sighs again, but it’s a good sigh, with a little laugh at the end of it. And she kisses Emma’s forehead.

“If that’s not what love is, my dear,” she says softly, “If that is not what love is.”

They sit there and Mama rocks her until Mommy comes home. Emma opens her eyes, and Mama looks too, as Mommy sighs greatly and takes off her heels by the door. Then, she stops, and notices them watching her, Emma in her onesie and Mama in her casual at-home clothes, and Mommy stands up straight and clears her throat.

“Did I interrupt?” she asks, looking very guilty.

“Not at all,” Mama says, smiling, and she gives Emma’s bottom a pat. “We were just talking.”

Mommy nods. “Carry on, then. I’ll be down in a sec.”

“Wait!” Emma cries, and wiggles out of Mama’s lap and makes her way to throw her arms around Mommy’s shoulders in a hug.

Mommy doesn’t hug back right away. “Emma, Mommy is yucky right now from outside.” Even so, she manages a little hug anyway, or at least a few pats on the back. “Alright, sweetheart, I love you too. Let me go take a quick shower and then we can talk, okay?” She looks over at Mama, who must’ve just made a face or something, before she pulls away and gently pushes Emma towards Mama again. Emma turns back.

“Do you really mean you love me? Is this really love, or are we just really good friends who are really, really, _really_ in like with each other?”

That stops Mommy cold in her tracks. She turns around. “ _What_?”

“Answer her question, Regina,” Mama says from the living room sofa, leaning back into her seat, “Inquiring minds want to know.”

Emma nods.

Mommy looks at them both again. She puts her purse on the bottom steps without looking. Then, she takes Emma’s hand and leads her to sit next to Mama while she slides Emma’s folded poem away a bit so she can sit on the coffee table. “I don’t know what kind of conversation the two of you were having before I came in, but if it involves questioning my love for either one of you, I suppose my shower can wait.”

She looks at Emma.

“Emma, let me ask you—do _you_ think that what we have is love? Now, you think very long and hard before you answer me.”

So Emma thinks.

“Yeeesssss?” she asks finally. Mommy smiles.

“So, if you think it is, and I think it is, is it?”

She thinks long and hard about that one too. So hard, she barely hears Mama giggling. “I gueeessss? But what if other people—”

“Think we’re just friends?”

Emma nods.

“Why does it matter what other people think? Other people don’t know you like I do, like Mama does. They have no say in what goes on inside our house, and they never will.” Mommy strokes Emma’s cheek with the back of her hand, and squeezes Mama’s hand with the other. “What matters is us. If we believe in this, then we’re set. We don’t need anyone else’s approval but our own, not now, not ever. Okay?”

Emma nods. And Mama nods. And Mommy nods.

“Now, if that’s settled...” Mommy says, standing up and taking Mama up with her, “I’m going to shower—” she and Mama share a kiss, “and I trust you two will get dinner started?”

“Don’t you worry about a thing,” Mama purrs, and she gives Mommy a longer, deeper kiss than the one Mommy gave her. “You’re in for a treat tonight...” she looks down at Emma, “Isn’t she, Emma?”

And Emma giggles, and grabs the paper with her poem on it, and rocks back and forth in her seat. “Yep.” She’s got a few changes to make before she can show Mommy her masterpiece.

“Hmmmm...” says Mommy s’piciously as she backs up and goes to the stairs.

“We love you!” Mama and Emma call after her.

Mommy laughs. “Love you too!”

And they mean it.

**Author's Note:**

> To that cute gatekeeper who was too cowardly to leave me a name alongside their complaining comment: 
> 
> Bold of you to assume I made a mistake. I am acutely aware of the difference between / and & and I would very much appreciate not being patronized as you demand I change the tagging of my fic. 
> 
> The fact of the matter is you commented on a story that is part of an ongoing series where Emma and Regina are in a consensual MDLG relationship. Even if SQ isn’t the main focus of the fic (because there is a third party and she’s kind of important actually??), that does **not** nerf Regina and Emma’s relationship whatsoever. Any time Emma refers to Regina as Mommy—which is 90% of the time **lesbihonest** —she is doing so as her girlfriend. Her ladylove. One of her two SO’s. 
> 
> Also... you do realize you can do platonic things with and for your SO’s and still be in the relationship... right??? 
> 
> Please correct _your_ mistake, check your entitlement, and grab some object permanence. Or, you know, just don’t read my damn fic. Your choice. 
> 
> Thank you.


End file.
